


Cured Poison

by mamodewberry



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Grand Prix Final, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10082354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamodewberry/pseuds/mamodewberry
Summary: After the Grand Prix Final Banquet in Barcelona, Christophe accepts his defeat. Or does he? Only his sweetheart knows the truth!





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is Post-series, as well as a future side scene for ["Never Look Away"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8997835/chapters/20547385). Was discussing things with @Gabapple yesterday and was struck with inspiration and this little Chris having a bit of a breakdown came to be. Mild Spoilers for the fic as well since Chris hasn't been around too much, yet. 
> 
> I've given Chris' boyfriend/Mystery Man the name Bastien. I don't care what Kubo says, I named him first, rawr.

Tying the sash of his robe about his waist, Bastien exited the bathroom into the living space where Christophe was there to greet him, lounged on the bed, pillows propping him, sipping on bourbon. “You left early.”

“Once Viktor and Yuuri left, many started to finish up their mingling. Point of interest, those two.”

“I would have come to collect you sooner.”

“I wouldn’t dare tear you away from your beauty rest. Jetlag gets you oh so moody.” Christophe didn’t blame him for dropping him off at the banquet and heading up to the room. Bastien was plenty sociable, but combined with little-to-no sleep, he wasn’t the best of company. 

The champagne was typically weak at these gathering, but was usually enough to satisfy Christophe. Yet here he was, indulging in a bottle he’d packed for unspecified reasons. Unless he had passed on the offerings all together. 

Reasons that perhaps they’d both expected. Several came to mind. Odd to start without him. 

Bastien let the towel he’d been drying his hair with fall as he padded to the bed and sat on the edge beside his lover. “You know me so well.”

Christophe tipped his glass towards him. “With pride.”

“And I know you.”

He paused bringing the glass to his lips at the tone - he’d been caught. Still, he continued on with a sip, a crinkle in his eyes that would fool anyone as a genuine smile, but Bastien knew.

Throughout the entire season, Christophe had made it known that Viktor’s absence would make for boring competition. Never once had he uttered that that meant he’d have a guarantee to the gold, but they’d thought the same. He’d climbed his way through to the Grand Prix with ease, and Christophe really did seem bored. The challenge was gone. 

Then, at the finals, he’d lost it. To his rival and friend’s successor no less, as well as his lover. And the prodigy from Canada. 

Bastien didn’t want to blame complacency. His heart wasn’t as into it as it had been in previous seasons, but he’d shown improvements and bested his own records. And even so…

At the kiss and cry, for that moment, however brief, after he’d looked up to witness his score, blowing kisses to the camera, he’d cast his eyes down in defeat. 

“It does no good to dwell. The words would be poison.”

“Poison can be purified, _mon amour_.”

“And then you will be infected.”

“Fortunately I have an antidote.” Bastien plucked the glass from his hands and set it on the nightstand next to the bottle. With a _look_ and motion of his hand, Christophe hesitantly scooted over to make room for Bastien to settle beside him. Two seconds later, Christophe was clinging to him as he had intended, head on his chest. One stroke of a finger up his lover’s hairline and into the dark, short strands, further into the blond waves that he then rolled between thumb and index finger. It wasn’t _the_ antidote, but it was an ingredient, and soon Christophe was speaking.

“Wouldn’t it have been fitting if I’d podiumed? At the very least bronze? Then all of us would have been under Viktor’s influence. But no… fifth place… I can’t remember the last time I had been ranked so low. What… where did I go…  _ wrong _ .”

The words were sour. Christophe didn’t regret things. He owned his lots. If dealt a bad hand, he took it and moved on, but this… he’d worked so hard. This was his career.

“Yuuri’s not that much younger than I, so I can’t even blame my age,” he continued. “Age plus my mass difference? Sigh. It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Accepting the defeat. It wasn’t something that could be fought or argued with the federation. Still, it hurt to see him like this.

“I’ve let Yosef down. All these years of skating, and I could never quite reach the top. All coaches want to bring pride to their country.”

“And you have, Chris. You have. Yosef has been your coach since you were fifteen. He’s seen your growth and success. Switzerland has many medals courtesy of you. Gold is not everything. You’ve said so yourself. Many times.”

“He told me gold matched my hair, so I should win gold.” 

“Chris…” It was something Viktor had told him during one of their first meetings years. Meant to be encouraging and here Christophe was twisting the sentiment like a vice. 

“I’ve let him down, too.”

_We can’t all be Viktor Nikiforov and skate until we are twenty-seven, flawlessly_ thought Bastien. “Would he really have that expectation of you?”

“He was a firm believer of you won if you worked hard enough. To the wolves that congratulated with dripping resentment, if you didn’t take gold from him, you simply weren’t fit for gold. No secrets but dedication and marriage to the ice.”

“With all you have going on in your life, staying right under him was no easy feat.”

“And yet… I fell so far without him there to pull me forward. I should be happy for the younger generation of skaters. They are also my friends, people and skills that I admire, that had Viktor to guide their paths as well.”

“Are you not happy for them?”

“I am. Thus the poison that has tainted my lips.”

“But now it can leave your body. Holding it inside is more fatal.”

Warmth left Bastien’s side as Christophe extracted himself, only to straddle him. He waited for the hands that rose to cup his face, but then he watched them fall to his lover’s sides, shoulders sagging. Those green puppy-dog eyes that always looked so imploring and soft now peered back dismal and vulnerable. “Above all… I feel like I let you down.”

Bastien’s chest tightened, and whatever breath he had left him, and not in the sense he often enjoyed in private times. “Ch-”

“Your choreography got me the higher technical scores. You gave me the edge I needed. You gave me a new inspiration!” He choked on the rising emotion, tears welling. “Our love was in my skating. Was our -  _ my _ \- love not sufficient?”

Droplets caught in Chris’s lashes and Bastien reached up to gather them with his thumbs. A man full of smiles and confidence, Bastien could count on one hand the times he’d known his lover had shed beautiful tears out of sadness, not ecstasy. “ _ Mon amour _ .”

Christophe blinked long and hard, diverting his gaze, and then slowly returned to the affectionately accusing tone. 

“What matters is that you show _me_ your love. The judges and audience won’t always understand our ways. But, when you think about it, they’ve been seeing it for coming on three years now. Remember the first year? That roaring applause, audible weeping?”

Swallowing, Christophe nodded.

“You will _never_ let me down. I put what I know you are capable of in your programs, I know you the very best. You’ve never disappointed _me._ A score is but a number derived from a flawed system and often biased judges. This season Yuuri Katsuki showed a side to himself not seen before. It was new and exciting and there were expectations of being coached by Viktor Nikiforov. Yuri Plisetsky is rising to be Viktor’s successor by the very two people that coached him. It’s all unfair, isn’t it?” Bastien leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Whether you win - gold, silver, bronze - or not, I know you have done what you can. I am always proud of you, Christophe Giacometti.”

“What’s unfair is you saying these things,” Christophe chuckled, tension releasing in the room.

“I’d say we’re even as I had to watch you from the sidelines and couldn’t do anything about my growing desires.”

He smirked at that. “Is that part of your antidote?”

Bastien took his unshaven chin into his fingers and gave him a chaste kiss, his eyes less so. “You tell me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes these two are dramatic and romantic, fight me.


End file.
